Tuesday, November 04, 2008

I used to work in a Neo-Italian restaurant. I didn't last very long as I had trouble dodging meatballs and one time I'm pretty sure they caught me eating my pasta with a spoon.

Working is a terrible thing, you work so you can have money so you can have things so when you're dead you can think to yourself. "Groovy! I was such a baller! Too bad now I'm a skeleton

People die from stress, that's like dying from having a headache, or eating too much candy.

LAME.

I wanna die fighting zombies, or seeing how long I can hold my breath for. That's what glory means to me. Though of course a gattling gun or some kind of large machine gun is required in both of the above situations. Dying because the boss has been riding your ass for that paper for the last 35 years is definitely not gonna get you laid. Except like in the rare case of you being the main character in some really depressive indie film like my friend Gus. He's definitely got it pretty rough, but I've learned a lot of life lessons from him.

Do you ever wonder what a hipster is? Do you know the answer? Does that make you a hipster? If being called a hipster is insulting to you, does that make you even more of a hipster?

I wiggle around in my bedroom listening to PNAU and I even know that it's pronounced "now".

I also can bench like a lot of kilos. Like probably your mom and pops, one on each arm. Whenever I do it, their giggles is priceless.